


back and forth we go

by crushing83



Series: The Adventures of Stellah Stardust [2]
Category: Bitten (TV), RuPaul's Drag Race RPF, Teen Wolf (TV), Women of the Otherworld - Kelley Armstrong
Genre: Alpha Nick Sorrentino, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DemiPan Stiles Stilinksi, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, Drag Queen Nick Sorrentino, Drag Queen Stiles Stilinski, Drag Race preparations, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Future Fic, I don't mean to offend anyone, I have no idea what I'm doing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, McCall Pack, McCall Pack is no longer Stiles' pack, Mentions of various Drag Queens, Pronoun Switching, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is a contestant on RuPaul's Drag Race, and his attraction isn't defined by gender or sex, borrowing characters from Bitten, discussion of McCall Pack, early relationship stages, he doesn't feel physical attraction unless he has an emotional connection first, no more bromance between Stiles and Scott, not really religiously sticking to the Bitten or Otherworld canon, seriously, something happened between Stiles and Scott, things have happened, vague discussion of character death, vague discussion of past events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: With his audition video submitted (and chosen) and with his relationship with Derek evolving, Stiles feels as if he's standing on the precipice of a very tall cliff. Will there be a soft, pleasant landing waiting for him at the bottom, or will he crash and burn? Preparations for the competition and concerns about Derek's exodus from Beacon Hills make it difficult for Stiles to feel confident as he tries to ready himself for the next steps.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Nick Sorrentino/Cora Hale
Series: The Adventures of Stellah Stardust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1355965
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	back and forth we go

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying this universe again. I hope you enjoy it (but if you think I screwed up somewhere, please tell me so I can be aware of it going forward... gosh, this crossover stresses me out lol) <3
> 
> Also, going forward, keep in mind that all my understanding of this show's behind-the-scenes workings are from Reddit research and my own assumptions made when watching the show. So, I'm writing AU on a few different levels.

Stiles looked at the five mostly-packed suitcases spread out over his living room. The lump that had been in his throat since he got the call from the Drag Race producers pulsed and made breathing more difficult. 

He had twenty-five hours and thirty-six minutes until he had to be on a flight to Los Angeles. When he landed, a production assistant would blindfold him and take him to the hotel where they would be staying for the duration of the show. He knew the stories; he knew he would be unable to leave his hotel room once he was locked inside of it. 

It wouldn't be awful. He knew he had things to do---wigs to brush, fake nails to paint, and costumes to steam---so he could use the time constructively. 

But, he rarely dealt with imprisonment constructively. 

Beyond that, he still struggled to believe that he was a contestant, that he was going to compete on a national (or, really, international, given how media travelled around the world) stage. The world was going to see him in drag; the world was going to witness his trials and tribulations, as perceived through the eyes of editors and producers. 

Stiles wasn't ashamed of his career or of his predilections. He knew there would always be people who would scorn him for Stellah. He didn't care about their opinions; he liked his life. 

But, he was worried about failing in the public eye and about how he would be portrayed to the show's audience. He could control neither concern, which worried him even more. He was sure his stomach had already tied itself in all the knots it could, but it was still trying to twist and turn. 

A whimper of stress bubbled out of his mouth before he could swallow it back and prevent it from escaping. 

"Okay, enough." 

Stiles looked up and saw Nick standing in the doorway. He hadn't even heard his apartment door opening---he was losing his mind! 

"Huh?" 

Nick closed the apartment door and looked around the room. "We went over what you'd bring all last week," he said. "We loaded up on supplies this week. Why are you freaking out?" 

"Don't you have a meeting at---" 

"I canceled it," Nick said, referring to his meeting with the people who managed his three entertainment establishments under his direction. "This is more important." 

"Nick…" 

He smiled. "We're going to spend the day repacking your suitcases," he declared with a casual roll of his shoulders. "And then Cora is going to get Chinese food and something sweet to gorge on and we'll spend the night being friends and packmates." 

Stiles whimpered again. He was abandoning his pack to play a ridiculous game for six weeks and---

_Zap!_

Stiles flinched away from Nick's touch.

Nick chuckled. "You've got some extra energy all bottled up," he said, putting his hand back on Stiles' shoulder. "Maybe we should go clubbing tonight, instead. Or out for a run. Get that magic mojo under control " 

Stiles snorted and rubbed a hand over his face. He was barely magic. He had a strong sense of belief, especially in life or death moments, and it served him well; however, he'd never been able to conjure or summon or anything else that could be considered magic when that pressure was not upon him. The worst he could do, it seemed, was shock people when he was stressed or emotional. Nick had still named him the pack's emissary, declaring he had more strength in him than his gift and more integrity than many so-called druids possessed; he'd promised a safe place and honour, and Stiles had been lacking both of those things. He felt like someone more powerful could have been a better fit; Nick insisted there was no better fit for his pack than Stiles, even if all he could do was generate extra static electricity. 

"What am I doing, Nick?"

"Going on an adventure." 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I run with werewolves. How much more adventure do I need?" 

"That's the thing," Nick said, as he made his way to the sofa and pulled Stiles with him. "You spent your teenage years running into fights you had no hope of winning, standing up for your friends, and beating back some of the evil in the world. I think… you're so used to actual danger that this only seems terrifying because it's different. Or because it's easier to face." 

"That makes no sense," Stiles muttered as he sat down. 

Nick sat down next to him. "Fear rarely does. It makes us stand and fight or it makes us run away," he said. "Danger fear makes you gear up. Drag fear, apparently, makes you want to run." 

Stiles frowned. "I'm afraid of screwing up. Which is ridiculous, I know, but---" 

When Nick's hand settled onto his shoulder, Stiles stopped talking. Nick pulled Stiles into his body, hugging him into his side, and then he rested his head on top of Stiles' head. 

"You gonna snuggle me?" Stiles asked. 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

Nick snorted. "Don't be dumb." 

Stiles smiled. He knew physical comfort was how Nick and Cora helped cement the bonds between them and between their pack members. He'd never been a particularly cuddly person, considering himself more of a prickly person instead, but he'd grown into it since becoming a part of Nick's pack. After a full moon, anyone who ran with the group---humans included---would come back to the house for catered breakfast and a long nap in the sunroom or in the yard. They would touch, bodies resting together as they dozed on large cushions, and it they would all be better for it when they woke. 

If it could work---even a little bit---to ground him and his frazzled energy, Stiles wouldn't complain about his alpha's tactics. 

Nick snuffled along the back of Stiles' neck, scenting him and reaffirming his position in the pack, and then he rested his cheek on the top of Stiles' head. The weight of Nick's hands, on his hip and shoulder, helped Stiles feel connected to Nick and, through him, the pack. 

"You're not going to embarrass yourself---not seriously," Nick murmured. "You might make a mistake. You might say or do something you wish you hadn't. But, whatever it is won't be the end of the world---and you won't bring shame down upon you or your pack." 

"What about my drag mom?" 

Nick squeezed him even closer. "Impossible. I am always going to be proud of you," he said. "You've grown so much---as a person, as an artist. I've seen how hard you work. Every night, not just in the last few weeks. When I took you on, on stage and then into the pack, I knew from the beginning you were going to be a good fit. I just didn't know how good a fit. Fuck, Stiles. You help this pack so much. And you are amazing out there on stage, Stiles. It's time for the pack to support you---and it's time for you to grow again." 

"If I do this, and I _don't_ screw up, it could take me away from the pack for a long time," Stiles whispered. "How can I ask the pack to support something like that?" 

"I've already asked someone in the pack to accompany you, as security, and they've agreed to join you if you're ever called on to travel. It's included in your agreement with the parent company," Nick replied. "Cora and I will handle diplomatic negotiations with other packs wherever you're going, when it's necessary, but some of the elders have also volunteered." 

Stiles froze, his relaxed muscles tensing under Nick's firm hold. "Seriously?" 

"Seriously." 

"Wow." 

Nick chuckled. "Only a few of us know you're the emissary, but we all know how much you've given to the pack---in one way or another," he said. 

"And if I---" 

"They are going to cheer you on, every day that you're gone," Nick interrupted. He kissed the top of Stiles' head. "And when the show airs, they'll cheer for you again. Doesn't matter what happens." 

"But---" 

Nick's breath came out loudly, either on a sigh or a laugh; Stiles couldn't tell if Nick was exasperated or amused. Still, he nudged Nick with his elbow. Nick snorted and moved Stiles around so he was curled up in Nick's lap and leaning into Nick's chest. It might have looked weird; it would have been weird if Stiles was still used to how the McCall pack worked, but he was a part of the Sorrentino pack and closeness was very much a part of what kept it together. 

"No buts," Nick said. "We are behind you. This could be huge for your career. We understand that and we support you. So… relax, all right? We're going to spend the day going over everything, and by the time you get to airport security tomorrow, you're going to know that you're as prepared as you can be for this." 

Stiles wanted to doubt Nick. But, Nick was his alpha---and Nick never lied to him. It had been one of Stiles' conditions to joining the pack; Nick could tell him to drop a subject, or that he wouldn't answer Stiles' question, but if he lied, Stiles would leave and burn all of his metaphorical bridges on his way out of town. In the years they'd worked together and gotten to know each other, Nick had told him three times that he was approaching a subject they could not discuss; Stiles trusted him not to lie. 

He may not have _believed_ Nick in that moment, but he knew Nick wouldn't lie to him.

#####

_When Nick met Stiles at their perch on the small balcony inside Twin Peaks, he had two fancy bottles of beer in his hands. He put one down on the table in front of Stiles and kept the other for himself._

 _"I'd like to make a toast,"_ he declared. 

_Stiles frowned. "What happened? Family stuff? Did Elena call? What---"_

_Nick sat down, shaking his head and smiling. "Elena and Clay are fine. Jeremy and my dad are fine. Cora's fine. We're fine," he said. "This is something positive. Amazing. For you."_

_Stiles' eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"_

_As he leaned forward, over their small, scuffed table, Nick smirked. "A producer called today," he said._

_"They called you?" Stiles asked. He gripped the table with his hands. "Am I in?"_

_Nick nodded. "They approved of the adjustments, post-show. They won't let you have a security guard at the hotel for taping---they just can't control that. But, they will let you keep a panic button on your person and it will correspond to someone on their security team," he explained. "And, they agreed that they would not contact anyone who is not on your approved list for any possible Untucked video messages, so you won't have to worry about getting hate mail in the middle of a runway challenge. I may have said something about an abusive relationship and let them assume---in order to get you some sort of protection."_

_Stiles' hands unclenched. The guard had been Cora's suggestion---and Stiles hadn't felt it was necessary. But, he and Nick were more concerned about the producers contacting someone from Stiles' past (and the pack) in Beacon Hills in an attempt to stir up drama for their show. Stiles had been worried about losing his autonomy after the show, too. When Nick had taken those concerns to the people in charge of recruitment, Stiles felt sure that they'd rescind his invitation to join the group of contestants._

_However, it seemed like his concerns were handled to both his and Nick's preferences. Stiles knew there were things of which he was not aware, but he trusted Nick to protect him---both as his alpha and as his drag mother._

_"Seriously?" he asked._

_"By the time we get back to the den, a list of what you should bring and a copy of the contract with all the rules you have to follow should be in your inbox," Nick replied. He held up his bottle of beer. "Can we toast now?"_

_Stiles laughed. It was a light sound, closer to a cackle than anything else---but too delirious to make much sound. He was going to be on the show. He was going to be a contestant. He had a chance at becoming America's Next Drag Superstar._

_As his insides tightened, he closed his eyes. He tried to remind his body to breathe; it wouldn't cooperate, though, and he knew what was coming._

_He hadn't had a panic attack in so long, but he would always recognise the signs---_

_Nick's warm hand settled on his arm. "Breathe, Stellah," Nick murmured. "In... and out. Count if you need to."_

_His alpha kept talking---occasionally distracting him with gossip from the club, but always counting and reminding him to breathe---until Stiles could open his eyes. Then, he fell silent, as if he were waiting for an explanation._

_"I just... thought. About it. And... panicked."_

_"It's a lot," Nick agreed. "You still want to do it?"_

_Stiles nodded and smiled. Nick smiled back at him._

_"Cheers?" Nick asked, holding up his bottle._

_"Cheers," Stiles agreed._

_They clinked bottles and drank in silence for a few minutes before they started talking about the conversation Nick had with the producers, as Stiles' agent. Stiles had a lot of questions, but he decided to try to enjoy the moment before he let his mind spin off into another dimension; instead of hitting Nick with every question from off the top of his head, and risking another almost-panic attack, Stiles silently vowed to wait until he skimmed the material sent to him before trying to prepare himself._

_Besides that, Stiles didn't want to take away from Nick's excitement. Some of it was business-related---Stiles was sure Nick was already planning viewing parties that would draw all the local fans---but some of it was also for_ Stiles _, as a person, a packmate, and their emissary. He wasn't used to having attention on him---so much of his job within the pack was a secret from most of its members---and he knew he had to work on that if he were going to sign up to be a participant on the show._

 _Nick's phone buzzed, interrupting their drink, but Stiles barely noticed at first since he was lost in his thoughts. However, when he heard Nick laugh and say_ "Well, yeah, you can use my condo, but if you leave it like you did the last time…" _Stiles' focus pierced through the fog of questions so he could narrow his attention on what was happening in front of him._

_"You---oh. Yeah," Nick said. He paused, listening, and then continued talking. "I think that's a great idea. We need new family photographs. I'll make sure everyone's here." He paused. Then, he grinned. "Him, too. I'll get Cora to call Derek home."_

_Stiles glared at Nick over the top of his beer. It wasn't safe for Derek to make unnecessary trips to San Francisco---as much as Stiles_ waaaaanted _to see Derek again, as soon as possible. There was no universal hand signal for "werewolf politics" or "remember the plan, jerkface," so Stiles settled for narrowing his gaze into a sharper stare. In response, Nick grinned and fluttered his eyelashes._

_"I'll check with our group, and when you're ready, Raj', let us know," Nick continued. "Anything you want us to bring, or are we raiding your tickle trunk?"_

_Stiles almost groaned when Nick's eyes popped wide open as a pleased cackle escaped his mouth. Sutan and Nick, Raja and Nikki… it didn't matter what anyone called them, they were pure trouble when they were together. Stiles knew he was going to regret whatever they were planning behind his back---and right in front of his face at the same time._

_"Sounds good," Nick said, pulling Stiles from his thoughts. "See you soon."_

_When Nick ended the call, Stiles crossed his arms and continued glaring at him. "You know Derek can't just bop over any time you want, right?" he asked._

_"He and Cora came up with a list of acceptable---and believable---reasons for him to visit," Nick explained. "There are a couple that will work now, before we start the push to get him here for good."_

_Stiles relaxed his body language. "Are you sure? If Scott---"_

_"I know," Nick interrupted. He reached out and put his hand on Stiles' forearm. "He's been pack, to me, for a long time. We knew each other when we were kids, and he and Laura lived with us in Bear Valley for years after the fire. He's pack. I wouldn't risk his safety---and if he were ever in trouble, we'd come for him in full force."_

_Nodding, Stiles silently reminded himself that he knew that Nick would protect Derek. He winced as the reason for the call surfaced past his concern. "What does Raja have planned?" he asked._

_"A photoshoot," Nick replied. "Costumes and setting are already picked. He's driving down in two days with a truckload of stuff. We'll use my condo---more bedrooms, and better light."_

_"And you think Derek will willingly allow himself to be photographed?" Stiles asked. "I think I only have two pictures of him where he didn't glare out the camera with that eye trick you do."_

_"The contacts are a pain to wear, yeah, but I think Derek will do anything to be willingly draped over you," Nick teased. When Stiles arched an eyebrow, a silent question he knew Nick would correctly interpret, Nick grinned. "It's some sort of artistic, primitive, spiritual, royal thing."_

_Stiles blinked at Nick. "That tells me absolutely nothing."_

_"It's for his latest photography project, and those are the four major themes he's thinking about exploring," Nick said with a shrug. "He'll probably do some video, too, and when it's all over, we'll get some new quirky family photos and you'll get some things we can post on your instagram while you're away---apart from you being a big part of the project."_

_"Still not---"_

_"Stop freaking out," Nick interrupted. "You've modelled before---for Raja, too---so what---"_

_Stiles' cheeks felt warm. "I was freaking out then, too. They're like… their mind. Part asshole genius, part visionary artist. And I just---"_

_"Have a little brain crush?" Nick said, cutting in again. At Stiles' nod, Nick's smile softened from its usual teasing smirk. "Use this time, then, to pick his brain. I'm pretty sure he's timed this so he can share all his show biz wisdom with you. Nothing for you to feel weird about."_

_"Have you met me?" Stiles snarked back at him. "I can't even look at some of your friends without freaking out."_

_Nick nodded. "I know. It's… unnecessary, but I know what it's like to meet your idols. You grew up watching these people perform and perfect their craft," he said. He raised his bottle of beer for a quick sip, then point its neck at Stiles. "But, you've met a lot of them, many times. You've worked with some of them. So. Maybe just tryyy to work past what you're feeling so you can soak up any advice he gives you. Yeah?"_

_"I'd come around to that plan of action eventually," Stiles muttered._

_"I know," Nick said, smiling softly. "It's gonna be fun. I can't wait to see our new family portrait. You, Derek, me, Cora… the way it should be."_

_Stiles felt his cheeks heat up as he nodded. He did nothing to hide the gesture because he was proud of the bond he and Derek were building---and because his chemical signals and pulse would have given Nick enough of a clue to tease him without any deliberate signs in his behaviour, anyway. There was no point in trying to hide the truth from a werewolf; they'd figure it out if they were looking for the signs._

#####

"Stiles."

At the sound of _Derek's voice_ , Stiles spun around and almost knocked over one of his shoe racks. His heart squeezed in his chest as he took in the sight of Derek in the middle of his workroom. Derek looked good. He always looked good, but he was wearing one of Stiles' favourites of all his shirts (the pale, dusty green one) and a pair of faded, black jeans, and he looked so much like _home_ to Stiles that he felt a whine breaking free of his throat. 

Derek softened his stern default expression and crossed the room. "Nick told me you started freaking out," he said, scooping Stiles into a hug. "I can smell it on you." 

"Oh, you seduce me with your words," Stiles joked. "What are you even doing here?" 

"And you can seduce me right back, I see," Derek said, smiling into the side of Stiles' neck. He inhaled deeply before he lifted his head up. After a kiss to the side of Stiles' head, he continued talking. "Nick invited me to come and see you off." 

"But… Beacon---" 

"They went camping this week because of the holiday," Derek said. "I left a message with Melissa, just in case, saying Cora wanted some documents from my family's vault. Cora called the loft, left a message when I was out for my morning run, and that should back me up if they check." 

"So your cute butt is covered." 

Derek smiled. "Yeah." 

"Well… okay." 

He nudged Stiles and gestured to the mess around him. "What are you doing?" 

"Trying to decide if I've packed all the shoes I should bring," he admitted. "I have a bunch of colours---all that match the right outfits---but… what if I need these pink ones?" 

"Why would you need those pink ones?" Derek asked. 

"What if I sew something pink in a style that---" 

"Do you already have pink shoes packed?" Derek asked. 

Stiles frowned. "Well, yeah, but---" 

"Stiles." 

He sighed. "I'm all over the place." 

Derek huffed and hugged him close again. "I know. It's kind of how you operate," he murmured. "But, you have the list of possible costume choices for the show, right? And Nick helped you break it all down?" 

Stiles nodded, rubbing his face against Derek's collarbone. 

"And it's all out in the living room?" 

Stiles nodded again. 

When Derek hoisted him up over his shoulder, Stiles yelped and flailed. His actions didn't prevent Derek from carrying him into the main area of the apartment where Nick and Cora were checking the contents of every suitcase and garment bag. Instead of lowering him into the fray, Derek brought Stiles over to the sofa and settled down with Stiles in his arms. 

"Maniacwolf," Stiles muttered. 

"Sticks and stones," Derek whispered. "You need to rest. And I need to cover you in my scent." 

Stiles snorted. He wasn't going to complain; knowing how important scent was to werewolves, he wanted to be covered in Derek's scent as much as Derek wanted him to be. Instead of protesting, because that would've been dumb no matter how stressed he felt, Stiles snuggled into Derek's side and closed his eyes. 

"Ugh, you two are too cute." 

"Cora, do your job so Stiles can chill out," Derek responded. 

Stiles smiled into Derek's shoulder. "Mmm, yes, okay, lemme chill out," he said.

#####

_"While Nick and Cora are wrangling your man into his costume, come over here and lemme get some test shots."_

 _Stiles nodded and followed Sutan over to a few trees where his lighting equipment had been stationed. He knew it would be trickier to shoot outside, with varying light coming in through the trees' needles and leaves._

_They'd started in Nick's condo, but Sutan's ideas demanded a forest, too, so Nick moved them all out to the forest outside their pack and family home. Even though he and Sutan were friends, and had been for years, he kept the location of the den a secret; but he assured Sutan that the owner of the property wouldn't mind them out in the woods. He'd even called the elders---in the privacy of his bedroom---to ensure no one would be shifted and running through the trees._

_Derek and Cora, who weren't used to buffing and puffing and posing for someone holding a camera, immediately relaxed upon exiting Stiles' jeep and entering the clearing. Even Sutan commented on the change in their demeanor when he and Nick arrived in Nick's vehicle with the rest of the gear required to finish the shoot._

_Sutan motioned to Stiles, suggesting he lean against one of the tree trunks, and then he raised his camera. After a couple of clicks, Stiles moved, turning so his back was to the camera and he had to peer at it over his shoulder._

_"Good," Sutan said. "Remember to---"_

_Stiles tilted his head and arched his back._

_"Perfect. Fuck, you make me wish I was young again," Sutan teased, smirking at Stiles._

_After a snort, Stiles said, "Meanwhile, I wish I had some of your talent."_

_"You've got plenty of your own talent," he said. He came closer, focusing on Stiles' face, and he snapped a few more photographs. "Are you getting ready for the show?"_

_Stiles made a face, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes. Sutan grinned as he pressed down on the shutter button on his camera._

_"Well?"_

_After a sigh, Stiles turned to face Sutan. He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, we're starting to pack, and we ordered all the glue and tape and makeup I could possibly need, but… I've never done anything like this, and…"_

_"Nobody has, except for the people who were contestants before, and even then, it's gonna be a little different," Sutan said. "Reality TV is so fucking removed from actual reality, everyone's out of their element. You've been in drag plays, you've done cabaret and improv… the only thing you haven't really done is the pageant scene. You're ready."_

_"You think?"_

_Sutan levelled a dry glare at him over the top of his camera. "I know," he said. "Now, give me some of that forest goddess attitude before we bring out your god."_

_Stiles tried to rein in his grin at the thought of worshipping Derek---and failed spectacularly. Sutan caught the expression, snapped a few more pictures, and then waited for Stiles to regain his composure._

_When he finally hid away his smile, in an attempt to look like the ethereal being Sutan thought he could be, his photographer winked from over his camera._

_"You're gonna die when you see his final outfit," he purred._

_After a roll of his eyes, Stiles admitted, "I die when he's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Have you met him? All that hotness on the outside and a teddy bear on the inside? It's ridiculous. He's ridiculous. In the best way. I count my lucky stars every night."_

_"Somebody's got it baaa-aaaad," Sutan sang. He gestured towards some of the long grass. "Get down there and look through the grass… like a..."_

_"Wolf?" Stiles asked. He grinned at the thought of Nick, Cora, and Derek hearing that part of their conversation._

_"Derek? Yes. You, you're more of a fox," Sutan decided. "But, not today. Goddess."_

_Stiles nodded and committed to the type of pose and scenario for which Sutan was searching. The theme, when it had been explained at Nick's condo, was something about the erosion of spirituality and the displacement of deities. He and Derek had posed with the potted plants on the balcony, dressed in costumes that were a mix of new fashion pieces and what could have been old, tattered relics from previous ages. Stiles' costume had gone through a few adjustments for the outdoor shoot, between Sutan's vision and Nick's suggestions, but he still looked like an artistic representation of Tolkien's elves dressed in skimpy haute couture; he assumed the same would be true of Derek's outfit when he finally reappeared._

_They worked in silence for a few minutes. When Sutan paused to adjust a reflector, Stiles let his mind drift; the birds were chirping, the wind was rustling the leaves in the trees, and the warm earth and cool plants filled the air with their soft scent. The only thing better than their territory during the day was their territory on the night of the full moon, when the pack was together and running in various shifted states. Stiles smiled and closed his eyes, all but rolling around in the grass and moss underneath him, as he savoured being on the ground that was their home._

_"Perfect! Fuck! Don't you do anything but that for a few minutes, or else I'll beat you with the crop that is back in my luggage---and you won't enjoy it!"_

_Barely managing to keep from bursting out into laughter, Stiles did as Sutan demanded._

_"Kid, you're gonna wow the fans," Sutan murmured, stretching out on the grass, too, so he could take photos from a more even perspective._

_"You think?" Stiles asked._

_"Of course!" Sutan exclaimed. He moved so he was almost directly in front of Stiles, still snapping pictures but at a much slower rate. "Look, I get it, you're freaking out. But. You've got this. Just be there for the competition---don't try to produce yourself, don't try to make the audience like you. You're likeable already, and the producers and editors are gonna do whatever the hell they want, anyway, so don't waste your energy on that. Spend it on kicking the other queens' asses."_

_"Any other pearls of wisdom?"_

_"Don't rely on your body," he said, without hesitation. "A corset and bikini bottoms are cute---once. After that… it's tired. Just because you're a skinny tw---twerp, that doesn't mean you should be uncovered all the time."_

_Stiles cackled. He was fairly sure Sutan was about to call him a twink. In his thirties, that was practically a compliment._

_Once he finished laughing, he sobered and looked into Sutan's camera. "Thanks," he said, his voice taking on a more solemn tone._

_"You're wel---" he broke off and stared off into the distance behind Stiles. "---come. Fuck me. You two are gonna kill me. I need a smoke. Nick! Bring me that case from my camera bag!"_

_Stiles started to turn, but Sutan cursed him back into position as he stood up and moved away from them. Forcing himself to remain still, Stiles listened and waited for Derek to approach._

_"Stand just behind him… maybe five more feet back," Sutan instructed. "Behind that tree, but not really behind it---yeah, yeah, like that. Stalking your prey."_

_They worked through several different poses, moving from Derek approaching Stiles to each of them enticing each other into a warm embrace. Derek looked amazing, wearing the ripped trousers from the shoot at the condo, with a distressed leather vest, and gold and bone jewelry; his hair was styled, his beard had flecks of a glittery powder in it, and he was wearing contouring makeup, eyeliner, and mascara. Oil had been rubbed into his skin so it gleamed. Stiles wanted to climb him like a tree, with or without Sutan, Cora, and Nick nearby._

_After Sutan claimed he was finished, and ready to find a place for Nick and Cora's shoot, Stiles decided to take a chance. He grinned at Derek and slipped his hands under the vest so his fingers could stroke over Derek's spine. In response, Derek inhaled sharply and nuzzled into Stiles' neck._

_"This has been excruciating," Stiles whined. "I'm going to kiss you now, unless you have any objections."_

_"No objections," Derek whispered back._

_Taking that as permission, Stiles turned his head enough to catch Derek's lips with his. He felt Derek growl---in pleasure, not anger, so it was more like a purr---against him and he hummed in wordless reply. That was what he wanted, everyday for the rest of his life; he didn't want to imagine a life without Derek and his kisses in it._

_"Fuck," Sutan breathed from twenty feet or so away. "Any time you two want to shoot a movie? Or just… try your hand at performance art? I'm a willing audience member. Just saying," he added in a mutter._

_Stiles heard the camera clicking, but he didn't care. Since Derek seemed unconcerned about the peanut gallery's comments, Stiles simply shifted closer and continued kissing him._

#####

After he finished pouring over the contents of his suitcases, Nick pulled out a couple small packages from his messenger bag. He passed the first one to Stiles, who quickly unwrapped it to discover two identical smartphones---except for their cases and the grips on the back---and an old tablet that seemed to be five or six generations---at least---behind recent technology.

"What's all this?" Stiles asked. 

"An ebook reader that can't connect to the internet," Cora explained. "We loaded it with comic books, art books, and some fiction---"

Nick cut in and spoke next. "And I added some of your magical research books. Just in case." 

With a grin, Stiles nodded. "That's awesome, thanks. It'll help me from dying of boredom if I'm locked up and can't sleep." 

"And this… is a copy of your phone," Nick said, pointing to the next device. "We cleared it of all your private data. Left some texts and photos on it. No trace back to Beacon Hills, just in case they go looking for information for interviews after they confiscate it at the hotel." 

Stiles nodded. "Thanks." 

He pointed to the other phone. "Separate number, registered to one of my companies. Contacts are loaded with only our numbers, and I'm paying the bill so don't worry about data limits. I packed a couple waterproof bag cases if you need to stick the phone in a sink or toilet tank for safe keeping---but I think that would be the first place they'd look." 

"I can do waaay better than that," Stiles agreed. 

"I want you to have the phone for emergencies. Any kind of emergency---even if you're feeling twitchy and sparky, you call any of us when you can," Nick stipulated. 

After another nod, Stiles asked, "What about non-emergencies?" 

"Send me a daily update," Derek suggested as he rested his chin on Stiles' shoulder. "Only when you can. I'd like to know how you're doing." 

"And it'll keep you from rushing to my rescue?" Stiles teased. 

He nodded, his scruffy chin scratching Stiles' skin. "Please?" 

"You said 'please.'" 

Derek snorted. "I do have manners," he muttered. 

"Noooo, you're my Sourwolf," Stiles whined. "You're supposed to talk with your eyebrows and your fang---"

Stiles yelped at the press of Derek's human teeth into the flesh between his neck and shoulder. It wasn't a sound of pain---just of surprise. And he followed that sound up with a brief _huh_ of surprise when his body sort of melted into the bite and the embrace. 

"You two are gonna have so much fun," Nick muttered, earning a swat to the back of the head from Cora and a growl that reverberated through Stiles from Derek. He yelped. "Hey! I'm not propositioning anyone---I'm just stating the obvious!" 

Thinking about physical intimacy with Derek was much more relaxing than thinking about the next day; those thoughts may have made his heart skip several beats, but they wouldn't ever make him want to run away and hide from the world. 

He nuzzled the side of Derek's face and smiled. Thinking about Derek would always be a good thing. 

"Soon," Derek promised. 

"What's going on what that plan, anyway?" Stiles asked. 

"Don't worry about it," Nick said. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Is it I-can't-talk-about-it or I-don't-want-you-to-freak-out-more 'don't worry about it?'" he asked. 

"The latter." 

"Then, tell me." 

Derek and Nick shared a look; Nick shrugged, Derek nodded. Then, Derek started telling him about their plans. Derek was planning to start removing contents from the vault so they could be shipped to Cora; Nick already had secure storage underneath the den house, and he promised Cora and Derek they could use one of the vault rooms for their family valuables. Since Malia could access the space under the school, neither of them felt safe leaving Talia's records or journals for the McCall Pack. Anything of sentimental value would be going to San Francisco, too, so Scott or Liam couldn't destroy precious memories in a fit of anger or frustration---which was likely to happen when they realised what Derek had taken with him. They couldn't count on Peter to protect their possessions, so they would move everything to a safe location. 

Derek and Nick had also purchased a truckload of antique books and other smaller items to fill the crates in the vault. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would make it less obvious that Derek had removed everything he didn't want the pack to have. 

They hoped to have that finished sooner rather than later, but it was a task that Derek could continue doing at night. Nick had two human pack members---college kids who needed summer jobs---ready to start hauling items from Beacon Hills to San Francisco. They'd drive late at night, never on a full moon, so that they could arrive at Derek's building before sunrise, long after any night patrols finished, and be gone again before everyone else was getting up to start their collective day. They weren't hauling a trailer, which might arouse suspicions, and they planned to rotate through three or four vehicles Nick would provide for them. In case they were caught, they'd have a map and a letter-slash-list from Cora---both of which were sitting in a pile of her dirty laundry---which would carry her scent and give some legitimacy to their being in town with Hale possessions. 

Stiles thought that was dangerous, but he knew Derek would stay alert and watch them as best as he could on their way out of Beacon Hills. 

Since Scott hadn't started resorting to corporal punishment to reprimand his betas, Derek's other task was to continue failing at being a member of the McCall Pack. They thought he should show up late---if at all---and make himself less available through digital means. If the pack couldn't count on him, they would be less apt to include him in their plans. Derek figured Scott might confront him, but as long as Derek stuck to the truth as much as possible it wouldn't be a conversation that would make Scott too suspicious. 

Stiles wasn't sure how he felt about that. 

"The bond between Derek and Scott is weak," Cora added. "From what you two have told me, I don't even think Scott knows how to make it _more_ with anyone, except maybe Malia or Liam." 

"I never taught him that because I didn't---well, back then, I didn't want to feel that bond with another pack," Derek said. 

With a new perspective on Derek's actions as alpha, Stiles squeezed his hand and let their fingers slip together. 

"I can imagine that was tough," Stiles whispered. 

Derek nodded. 

Stiles turned to look at Cora. "Will the weak bond make it easier?" he asked. 

"It should," Cora replied. "He probably won't think to use it to try to reach for Derek. He might not even realise when Derek accepts Nick as his alpha." 

"Which would be ideal," Stiles said, nodding. "So, become invisible, fall off the radar, hope Scott actually kicks you to the curb---but it won't matter once you roll out of town unnoticed. Anything else?" 

Nick smiled. "I'm sending another human investigator. Someone to pretend they're looking into weird events," he said. "Should keep the pack a little distracted. Plus, one of Tonio's companies is buying Derek's building. The paperwork's drawn up, Derek just needs to sign---" 

"Tomorrow, after the airport," Derek interjected. 

"---so then, after Derek leaves, we can close the place for refurbishing," Nick finished. 

Stiles snorted. "And then they lose their clubhouse." 

"If they think they can keep using my property, after I leave, they're mistaken," Derek muttered. "They keep showing up, never knocking…" 

"Territorialwolf," Stiles teased. 

Derek growled. "Liam had the nerve to growl at me a couple weeks ago because I didn't get the cereal he likes."

"I'm surprised you didn't rip his throat out with your teeth," Stiles joked. 

"I fantasised about it." 

Nick chuckled. "I bet, the little jerk. Anyway. The only other things to figure out are when Derek will leave and when he'll join the pack," he said. "We think that hunter guy will be the best bet for a person to tell, him and Scott's mom." 

"Pack adjacent, savvy enough to understand the politics, and probably still eager to see you gone?" Stiles asked Derek. 

Derek shrugged. "Yeah, plus everyone else is just too close to Scott to trust with that information," he replied. "Chris would accept my wanting to be near Cora and away from Peter as the whole truth, and he would understand complicated family business. Melissa's involvement---with him, I mean---would prevent Scott from demanding anything of either of them. He might've changed for the worse, but he still respects her and thinks Argent is an honourable man. It'll be enough to delay him so I can get out of town and join Nick's pack formally." 

"You're not going to tell them until you're on your way out of town, though, right?" 

After kissing Stiles' temple, Derek said, "I fully intend to knock on their door at three o'clock in the morning and tell them I'm leaving right then and there."

Stiles snorted. "He'll love that." 

"A good-bye present, from me to him," Derek mused. 

"What else?" Stiles asked.

"We have schemes in place," Cora said. "I'm going to go visit a couple times, make it look like we're working on us being family again. And when Derek's ready to go, we'll be at the county lines to meet him." 

"And to be back-up in case things go weird," Nick added. "We should have Derek all moved in by the time you're out of isolation." 

Stiles groaned as a smile curved his lips. "That sounds amazing," he murmured. 

"Once the bond to Nick is in place, Scott will lose any claim over me," Derek added. "He won't be able to prevent me from seeing you… or anything else we may want to do." 

"May? Try definitely," Stiles replied. He squeezed Derek's hand. "I'm still worried he'll come here and cause a ruckus… but, we are a bigger pack. And it's harder to track in a city. Even Malia can't always do it. Too many smells. So we'll probably be okay here." 

"You're assuming he'll care enough to look for any of us," Cora said. 

Stiles shrugged. He knew the Hales were important to Beacon County. They'd been the protectors of the Nemeton and they'd defended the area's residents against anything that had been drawn to the regional power. They had a bond with the energy in the area---at least, they did in the past. But, apart from their celebrity in supernatural circles, Stiles wasn't sure that Scott ever recognised their importance to the land. It could go off without a hitch; Scott could decide Derek wasn't worth chasing after and he could leave Derek to rejoin with his sister. 

But, it could also go badly, if Scott's pride got the better of him---which had happened in the past---or if someone (like Deaton or Argent) told him about the connection between the territory and the Hale Pack. 

"Stop worrying," Derek whispered. 

Before Stiles could reply, Nick passed him the second parcel. He blinked down at it, hefting it as a way to discern what it could be. When that technique revealed nothing useful, Stiles opened the bag and found a few Henley-style shirts folded and tucked into separate zipped plastic bags. 

"Uhh… thanks?" 

"Shirts we've all been wearing them as much as possible, and they're all labeled," Nick explained. "You can't pack a lot of street clothes, so we decided to make it count." 

The gesture warmed Stiles' heart. He couldn't scent the way they could, but he recognised how they smelled when they hugged or cuddled him. Besides that, he knew what scent meant to werewolves; he'd been marked before, covered in Nick's scent for protection or Derek's in affection, and he knew how important the act could be. They wanted him to remember he was pack and that he was loved. He smiled and blinked back the tears that seeped through his lashes. 

"I'll wear them any chance I get," Stiles promised. "Thank you." 

Cora and Nick moved as close to Derek and Stiles as they could. It took a bit of wriggling, but within minutes the four of them were cuddling close and taking comfort from each other.

#####

_Nick looked from one picture to the other. He sighed. "They both work. I can't decide," he admitted._

_The first picture contained an image of Stiles dressed up as Nancy Grace. He was wearing a short and blonde wig, with the hair trimmed in layers and feathery bangs; he was also wearing a royal blue pantsuit with a decent amount of padding hidden beneath it. His makeup was fairly conservative for drag standards. His outfit was accented with chunky gold jewelry._

_In the second picture, Stiles was dressed as Céline Dion. He could have gone with something white and fitting, like the backwards tuxedo jacket she'd worn in the nineties, but he'd chosen one of her more casual looks. Instead of fancy clothes, he'd made a facsimile of her_ Titanic _hoodie, using iron-on transfers, and he was wearing that with skinny jeans, gold stilettos, and a pair of aviator sunglasses. His wig was long and wavy and highlighted, looking like her long locks; he'd gone overboard with the contouring to try to disguise his square face shape, too._

_It was a risk, to try to do a character that others had not succeeded in perfecting, but Stiles wanted to stand apart from the others by excelling where others failed. He didn't want to be Lady Gaga or Ariana Grande or Cher---even if they were all awesome in their own ways. He knew most people would pick obvious, easy choices. He knew someone would try to impersonate Ru or another of the drag queen competitors. He wanted more of a challenge---and he worked at it so he could present a more successful caricature._

_"What are you thinking?" Nick asked._

_"Nancy Grace might be… easier," Stiles replied. "The way she over-explains. The fast talking. I can do that in my sleep."_

_"But?"_

_"Céline would be fun," he continued. "I don't have her range, and my accent's not perfect, but I think I know enough to fake it. And answering questions with a song lyric… like she did years ago in that carpool karaoke vid would be a challenge. Can't prep for that, y'know?"_

_Nick grinned. "I'd like to see that."_

_"Any advice?"_

_"Decide in the moment," he said. "You do your best thinking on your feet. These costumes aren't too big, and you can use the wigs and accessories again for other looks. Pack 'em both."_

_Stiles groaned. "All that worrying, and no results!"_

_"You have two Snatch Game characters," Nick said. "They're not irrelevant, but they're not as popular as all the pop stars and classic divas others will choose. You made good choices. Let's get out of here and go celebrate."_

_"Ceeeelebrate good times, come on!" Stiles sang, in a voice that wasn't Québécois---but wasn't quite his usual voice, either._

_Nick laughed and nudged him towards the door._

#####

With Cora and Nick gone for roughly a couple of hours, on their mission to buy all of Stiles' favourite foods from his favourite restaurants, Stiles and Derek were left alone. They used the time to cuddle, at first, but Stiles eventually pulled away to agitate over the contents of his suitcases again.

His cosmetics were packed. His shoes and costumes were packed. His wigs were _very carefully_ packed. He checked all of that already and he wasn't worried about those items. 

He went over to the suitcase with the pockets and opened the largest zippered pouch. Inside, there were sewing patterns, costume notes, and a few photographs. They were all copies---the patterns, notes, and photographs---because he couldn't bear to lose an original to a freak drag accident. 

It had taken time to trace those patterns, but he hadn't minded. They could be useful in a sewing challenge. 

And his notes would help him remember what accessories went with what costume. 

But, his photographs were the most important things in that compartment. 

Aware that Derek was watching him, Stiles pulled them out and held them so he could see them. Derek replied with a hum and a gesture that showed his interest and beckoned Stiles to him. 

Stiles settled in at Derek's side. "Some of these are the ones Sutan took on your last visit..." 

"I have some of those tucked away, too," Derek admitted as they flipped through them. "Can't wait to frame them and put them out somewhere." 

Stiles blushed and smiled as he looked over the images. Nick had promised to post a few of them while Stiles was sequestered, along with a few candids Cora had snapped on her phone; internet presence would help to cover that Stiles was a contestant on the rebooted show. The rest of the photographs were some of his favourites: a Stilinski family portrait, when Claudia had been healthy; a selfie Stiles had taken with his dad; a picture of John dressed in drag next to Stiles' Little Red; another of Stiles dressed in some of his earliest drag and draped over Derek's shoulders; Nick and Stiles as Nikki and Stellah Stardust; and a photograph of Derek, Cora, Nick, and Stiles relaxing together at the den. 

"My anchors," Stiles whispered, holding up the last few photographs. 

Derek replied by kissing the side of his head.

#####

_As soon as his door was closed and locked, Stiles slumped against the wall. His bag fell, the strap sliding off of his shoulder, and it landed on the floor with a loud thudding sound._

 _Every muscle in his body_ ached _. He thought taking a couple extra dance classes to remind him how to pick up new choreography would be a good idea; he was reevaluating that idea. He knew dancing was something at which he had to work harder than a lot of other people. His issues with focus made it difficult to watch and learn from an instructor or choreographer. The exercise helped him, but he knew he wouldn't have time on the show to work the way he needed to work. The teacher of that afternoon's class almost kicked him out because he was too busy riffing off of a series of steps from the beginning of the routine and extrapolating his own moves._

_Leaving his bag of sweaty dance clothes in the foyer, Stiles pushed himself off the wall and shuffled towards the kitchen. He wanted another litre of water and then the carbiest and cheesiest food he could find._

_It wasn't until he finished two glasses of cold water and started spreading cream cheese on two sliced and toasted bagels that he noticed the light flashing on his landline's answering machine._

_He'd laughed at Nick when it had been installed oh his order. No one used landlines anymore! And no one used old school answering machines---voicemail was digital! But, Nick wanted a device that could take messages and would probably go unnoticed by hunters if they were technologically skilled. If hunters hacked or cloned their smartphones, they could gain access to their voicemail. Nick didn't think their devices would be hacked, but he wanted to be careful; in case of emergencies, he wanted a way to be able to contact his pack that hunters might overlook because the technology was too old._

_With half of a bagel in one hand, Stiles reached across the counter (and whined) and pushed the button on the machine._

"Stiles? I hope this is you. Hi. It's Jordan. Jordan Parrish?"

_Stiles felt his heart clench in his chest._

"It took some digging to find your number---"

_Of course it did. Nick was overly protective and he'd made sure Stiles had a company through which he could manage his careers and pay his bills._

"---and, don't worry, I'm not going to give it to anyone here. I figure that's the point," _Parrish said._ "I… it's been a while, so I hope you're okay. I… this might sound weird. I don't know what you can do, but maybe you're in the loop.

"Nothing's wrong, I don't think. And no one's hurt or anything. But, something weird has been going on. Derek just disappears. And I know he has a life, separate from the pack, but Scott was wondering what he's been up to. Lydia asked me if I knew anything---and I don't, or won't, because Derek's a grown man and I'm not his babysitter. 

"But, I want to give you a heads up. I know you two were close---before---so I thought you might know something. Or know a way to warn Derek… maybe convince him to tell Scott what he wants to know. If you care."

_Stiles frowned. He thought Scott knew Cora had settled in San Francisco. He also thought Parrish needed to learn how to be a better spy---if that were his intention._

"Anyway. I better get back to work. But, uh, call me at the station or text my cell. Numbers haven't changed. Take care, Stiles."

_Stiles closed his eyes as the message ended. On top of everything happening in his life, he didn't need the added stress of worrying about Derek and the fate of Beacon Hills._

_Because it was an issue that affected Derek---a member of Nick's family and pack, no matter what Scott thought---Stiles picked up his smartphone and called his alpha._

_Small talk didn't take very long because Nick recognised the seriousness in Stiles' voice. He prompted Stiles, and he listened as Stiles told him about the message. He asked Stiles to play it for him; once it was finished playing, Nick sighed and fell silent._

_Stiles' thoughts filled his head in the quiet time. Was Parrish acting as a representative for Scott? Was he acting on his own, out of some concern for Derek's safety? Did he think Derek was in trouble with someone else---or with Scott? Stiles never knew Parrish well enough to be able to predict what he'd do; he thought Parrish was more neutral than anything else, staying in Beacon Hills to serve the supernatural, in general, instead of serving the alpha of the territory. But, then, Parrish stayed at Scott's side after…_ after _, as if it were all fine. Stiles had been forced to re-evaluate his opinion of the hellhound._

"Stiles?"

_"Hi, sorry. I sort of… tuned out. I just got back from dance class---I'm wiped. What did you say?"_

_Nick snorted._ "Physical and mental overload, huh?"

_"Yeah."_

"Well, leave it with me. All of it. Derek and I have a video chat planned tonight, and I'll share Parrish's message and ask him what he thinks," _Nick said._ "The situation's delicate… and it sounds like Parrish might be trying to tell you something." 

_Stiles frowned and looked down at his answering machine. "You think?"_

"Yeah, I do. So, give me this guy's number and I'll call him later," _he said._ "I'll say I'm the owner of the phone, checking my voicemail, and take it from there."

_"You know he's a deputy, right?" Stiles asked._

_Nick sighed the way he did any time he was preparing to give Stiles bad news._ "He's actually the Sheriff now," _he said._

_Stiles frowned. On one hand, that made sense. He was personable and articulate; he seemed respectable to the senior demographic and he was young (and handsome) enough to appeal to his peers and the newer voters in the community. On the other hand, Stiles couldn't stop himself from suspecting nefarious pack motives behind putting his father in danger that he didn't survive. If it hadn't been intentional, lemonade had certainly been made for the McCall Pack. With Malia as a deputy, too, as she'd been the last Stiles had heard, their group had enough support from within the department to cover their tracks and to hide the supernatural goings-on in the community._

_"Since when?"_

"Since long enough to make a person wonder," _Nick admitted._

_It had been a long time since Stiles tried to investigate John's death. The pack, for the most part, had stood by their alpha, and Scott always insisted that Derek had been necessary to help them fight---and that he'd never guessed John could be a target. Derek had been his only confidante when Scott made it clear he would no longer entertain Stiles' questions; Liam had tried to run interference by discrediting Derek in small ways, but he and Stiles had a solid friendship by that point and Stiles knew better than to trust anything Liam said or did unless it involved Scott or his current girlfriend. The deputies had been grieving, no one knew what to look for, and Stiles struggled against the lack of evidence. When he and Scott had their last fight, Stiles suspected incompetence---not a nefarious plot._

_But, if the goal had been to replace John as Sheriff..._

_Why, though?_

"I haven't figured it out," _Nick said._ "The last time I sent a private investigator, the pack closed ranks and pretty much ran him out of town---with the help of the deputies. I have some circumstantial evidence, but nothing concrete. If I did, I would have brought it to you."

_Even though he was a little miffed he was only finding out about Nick's guesses at that point, so long after John's death and so soon before he had to leave for the competition, Stiles knew that was true. Nick may tell Stiles to drop a particular subject, but he never lied to distract him; additionally, knowing how Stiles' mind worked, he tended to keep suspicions to himself until there was an actual shred of proof._

_It might bother some people; they might see Nick's actions as manipulative or coddling tricks meant to keep Stiles in line. But, Stiles knew Nick wasn't deliberately trying to control him. He knew he could get lost in flights of fancy; he knew Nick was aware of that, too. Nick doing preliminary work was Nick's way of protecting Stiles from pain as much as it was to keep Stiles from searching randomly and without direction; when Nick had some sort of proof, he would turn Stiles loose on the information he'd gleaned and see what patterns and conclusions Stiles could draw with focused research._

_"They might not be so guarded anymore," Stiles suggested._

"I'm wondering about that," _Nick said._ "Why reach out to you now, about Derek? Something's going on. Probably."

_"Maybe I should stay and---"_

"Nope. You are not sacrificing your career for McCall-related drama," _Nick interrupted._ "If something is going on, I promise I will keep you updated. And I will keep you informed about Derek's situation, as it develops, obviously. Somehow. I have to talk to some of the queens to figure out about blind spots in the sequestering plan." 

_"Secret phone?"_

"Probably." 

_"You'll let me know if it's something? Even this week?"_

"Yeah," _Nick agreed._

_Stiles nodded even though Nick couldn't see the gesture. "Okay… okay," he said. "If Derek's in danger, I'm not going. But if it's a ruse or if Jordan's just being a worrywart, I'll still go and compete. Just… Derek---"_

"Is important to you. I know," _Nick said._ "I wouldn't screw with you on this. Derek's pack. I take that seriously."

_That declaration allowed Stiles to relax a little bit. Nick did value pack; he treated the human members as importantly and with as much respect as he treated the werewolf members. Derek's life was valued---even if he wasn't officially pack, he was still considered pack._

_Their alpha was aware of the situation and he would investigate it with the seriousness required. Stiles could let him work; he could try not to worry._

#####

As he woke up, Stiles rubbed his face into the pillow underneath him---and realised it wasn't a pillow, but Derek's chest. He smiled and continued moving his head, enjoying the feeling of skin sliding against skin and his stubble catching against Derek's chest hair, and he only stopped when Derek's hand cupped the back of his head.

"Sleep," Derek grumbled. 

Stiles opened his mouth to say something---most likely about the fact that even though he was drowsy, his mind was starting to fire more quickly and it was remembering what the day was---but Derek rolled and took Stiles with him. At the end of the maneuver, Stiles ended up on his stomach, with his face pressed into a completely un-chest-like pillow; Derek was mostly on top of him, with most of his weight pressing Stiles into the mattress. 

He felt squished, and he almost pushed back against Derek, but then he realised he felt _safe_ , too. He relaxed into his position and closed his eyes. 

"If this is a 'you covering me in your scent' thing, I have to get a shower before we leave for the airport, so---" 

Derek snorted into his shoulder. "We have the whole car ride for that," he said. 

"Mmm, okay. Good plan." 

"Sleep." 

Stiles wanted to obey---really, he loved sleeping, and it would have been even better in his current position---but his mind was already whirring into action, going over everything he had to do before the left for the airport, and he didn't think he could slow it down and convince it to rest. His brain was a difficult beast to tame; once awake, it rarely settled. So, he tried to lie there, under Derek, and he used the time to catalogue that feeling of safety and security and burn it into his memory. He wanted to be able to remember it when he was in Los Angeles without his pack. 

If Derek knew what he was trying to do, he didn't say anything about it; he did seem to know when Stiles was finished, though, because he rolled off of Stiles and helped him off the bed. 

He ushered Stiles into the bathroom. It should've been really weird, taking care of their morning needs while together, but Stiles wasn't bothered. Since Derek seemed unbothered, too, it gave them more time to be together---to keep each other in sight. He tugged off his clothes and started the shower, after a swish-and-spit of mouthwash, fully expecting Derek to join him. But, he hadn't expected Derek to pull up his sweatpants, flush the toilet, and stare openly at him as if he were stunned. 

"What? We just pissed, you can't be surprised I'm fine being nak---"

"You have no hair," Derek interrupted. 

Stiles felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered Lillian and her very thorough body waxing. He rubbed the back of his head. 

"Uh, no. Not for a few weeks, anyway," he said. He shrugged. "Trying to make it easier for the competition, y'know?" 

Derek nodded. 

"Is it a problem?" Stiles asked. "I know you used to overly groom before going more _au naturel_ , and maybe it's a wolf taboo I'm breaking, but I can't shave my body every day for six weeks. I'll lose my mind. And probably injure myself." 

"You look very smooth," Derek managed to say, his voice more hoarse than usual. 

"In a good way?" Stiles asked. 

Derek nodded again. 

Stiles grinned. "You wanna touch?" 

"Stiles…" 

"I know, I know, big guy," he said. "None of the good stuff until I'm back and you're pack, so we have time to make it real." 

While the cosmic one-true-soulmate notion was complete fiction, werewolves were able to take a mate and form some sort of mystical bond in the relationship; Stiles wasn't sure how that bond could work for him, since he wasn't a wolf, but he understood that Derek would need time to make their relationship solid, to feel secure in it, before Stiles went haring off to another city or state or country. He wanted that security, too, even if there were no bond to forge on his side. He wanted to explore his relationship with the person for whom he had Big Feelings and know they were real and settled and together. 

"But, if you wanna touch, you're allowed," he added. 

Derek crossed the small room and put his hand on Stiles' ribcage. Stiles wanted to tease him---because his torso had never been particularly hairy, unlike some of his more hirsute werewolf friends---but Derek started to slide his hand up, towards his armpit, and Stiles decided to keep his mouth shut so he didn't interrupt whatever sort of experience Derek was trying to have. 

He let Derek raise his arm and inspect his hairless pit with a few almost-ticklish touches; he let Derek slide his hand down past his ribcage, around his stomach, and up to the centre of his chest. 

"You're really… I like it," Derek croaked. He swallowed hard and looked down at his hand. "You don't have to keep it up or anything---I'd never ask---but it's nice. Your skin is soft. Um. Feels good." 

"Maybe it's something I'll do for special occasions," Stiles said, thinking out loud. 

Derek's eyes glowed blue for a split second. If being completely waxed was enough to rev Derek's engines so much that control wasn't easy to maintain, Stiles was definitely going to consider it in the future. Before birthdays and holidays might be a good time to endure Lillian-the-sadist's skills in hair removal. 

Yes, Stiles suspected both he and Derek would enjoy that. 

The steam rising in the air intensified the intimacy of the moment. Derek's hand was still a warm weight on his chest, asking him to stay close for as long as they could stand. Stiles felt himself leaning into Derek's touch; his eyes were glued to Derek's eyes and they seemed to be unable to break contact in any way. 

Derek licked his lips before trying to talk. "We should…" 

Stiles nodded. 

It took another few minutes before they pulled apart, as if they were warm, sticky toffee, and then they stepped into the shower. It took all of Stiles' self-control to refrain from licking the water droplets on Derek's back when he ducked under the showerhead. He'd never felt physical attraction so strong before, and he thought he was going to drown in it. There had been fleeting moments of it, after feelings for a specific person developed, but they'd always been manageable or survivable. The attraction brewing inside of him at the sight of a wet Derek threatened to burn him from the inside out, leaving nothing but molten desire and the urge to mate. 

"Me, too," Derek said as he turned around to face Stiles. 

He kept his gaze fixed above Derek's chest. "Huh?" 

Derek smirked. "You think I can't smell those chemosignals?" he teased. 

Stiles flushed. He'd forgotten that werewolves could smell things like attraction and anxiety. 

With a hand on the back of Stiles' neck, Derek guided him so he was underneath the water and so he was watching Stiles while he pushed his soaked hair out of his face. He blinked; Derek was leaning back against the tiled wall with a smirk on his face. In reaction to the promise Stiles saw in Derek's eyes, he felt his toes curl against the floor of the shower. 

"We need to get clean," Stiles complained. 

Derek snorted and bent down enough that he could pick up Stiles' bottle of shampoo. "C'm'ere," he said. "Let's get started." 

The mood mellowed from intense desire to something more sensual and less explosive in nature when they focused on washing. Stiles learned that Derek's muscles could go from dough-soft to steel-hard with a quick and barely noticeable flex. Derek discovered that Stiles was ticklish at the small of his back. They hugged and touched; they smiled and laughed. They tried to make the most of their last bit of time together before Stiles had to leave for six(-ish, depending on the production schedule) weeks. 

When they were clean, Stiles' heartbeat stuttered at the tenderness Derek demonstrated, wrapping Stiles up in a couple fluffy towels. He wrapped another towel around his waist and pulled Stiles into a hug before they could get too far from each other. Stiles was not going to complain.

"Der?" 

"Mm?" 

"Can we go lie down for a few minutes?" he asked. 

Derek nuzzled the side of his head. "Do we have time?" 

"Yeah. Still a couple hours before we have to leave." 

"Set an alarm---just in case," Derek stipulated, before he took Stiles back to the bedroom.

#####

_Stiles dialled Derek's number and let it ring once. Then, he ended the call and put his phone down next to the piles of patterns and jewelry and other bits of drag detritus through which he was trying to sort into piles of what he should pack and what he should leave behind. If Derek were free and available to talk, he would call back within a minute or two; if Derek were with the pack and unable to talk, Stiles knew Derek would call him as soon as it was possible. It wouldn't do for anyone in the pack find out he and Derek were in contact, so they were careful when reaching out to each other._

_The ringtone he'd assigned to Derek---Duran Duran's "Hungry Like the Wolf," (a little too) obviously---interrupted his thoughts. He snatched his phone up and answered the call. But, instead of putting it to his ear, he used the keypad to type two ones and a four, their current code for it being safe to talk, and he listened for Derek to repeat the code. Then he brought the phone to his ear and listened to Derek and the sounds of Beacon Hills._

_Derek spoke after a long moment during which Stiles wondered what he could hear of San Francisco. "Hey. You good?" he asked._

_"Uh… freaking out a little," Stiles admitted. "Can you talk for a few minutes?"_

_"I have twenty until Malia's coming to get me for border patrol," Derek replied. "What's going on in that clever head of yours?"_

_Stiles blushed the way someone else might have blushed if they'd been called beautiful. Superficial adjectives did affect him---especially when Derek was doling them out---but when someone---Derek---called him smart, or something that could be interpreted as smart, Stiles had to resist the impulse to swoon._

_"I…" he stopped and cleared his throat. "Nothing. Not really. I'm freaking out."_

"Over the packing?" _Derek asked._ "Cora said Nick's helping you---he is helping you, right?"

_Stiles looked at the bundles of hosiery, cosmetics, and other supplies on his work table and counters. He sighed. "Yeah, he's helping," Stiles replied. "I just… I… what if I shouldn't go?"_

"Is this about Parrish's call?" _Derek asked._

_"Partially?"_

_Derek sighed._ "It's… well, I won't say it's nothing, but, all they have is that I'm visiting Cora---which is true," _he said._ "I'm not doing anything wrong."

_"Scott might---"_

"He absolutely doesn't care about me, I promise," _Derek interjected._

_"---not care about what you're doing," Stiles finished his thought. "He might just care about what it looks like you're doing. You know he can be pretty, um, stubborn."_

"I would've said hard-headed," _Derek muttered._

_Stiles snorted. "That, too."_

"I'm more worried about how Parrish could find you," _Derek admitted._ "Nick said your apartment's number is listed under a company name---"

_"But it's my name on the company paperwork," Stiles reminded him. "It isn't something just anyone could find. He has the resources to find me."_

_Derek was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, he said something Stiles never expected to hear._

"I'm relieved you're going to be out of town and sequestered," _he said._ "Cora said they treat the location and production like some sort of state secret. Your actual phone should be off, so he can't track your phone to find you. They use a lot of security---which wouldn't be helpful against werewolves, but it isn't nothing, either---so you'd at least have some sort of defense."

 _Stiles frowned as he listened to Derek talk. He sounded as if he were concerned Scott would lash out at_ Stiles _, which seemed crazy to Stiles. Their relationship broke after the death of his father, and there was no connection between them any more. There was nothing---_

_Oh._

_"You think he'll go after me, to punish you?" Stiles asked._

_After a long, low breath, Derek said,_ "I worry. He's not evil… but he might try to get to you to get the whole story. He might assume you're trying to lure me to a rival pack---or something like that---to hurt him."

_Even though Stiles was worried for Derek, far more than for himself, he snorted. "Rival pack? Hardly. Nick's pack is secure and stable and waaay bigger---and he absolutely has zero interest in his pack or territory ," he said. "Sure, he's not a true alpha, but he's reasonable and trustworthy. Fair. And he knows Beacon Hills is crazytown central. He doesn't even want an alliance with them."_

"I know," _Derek agreed._

_"Also, you're your own person! You can decide where you go!" Stiles continued, getting lost in his defense of Derek's right to choose to whom he gives his loyalty. "Packs aren't… gangs! Or dictatorships!"_

"Getting all fired up?" _Derek asked in a teasing tone._

_"Yes!" Stiles exclaimed. He sighed. "Maybe I should stay home."_

"No. You are going to compete and show the world how smart and beautiful you are," _Derek said._ "And then, I'll come home to you, and we'll celebrate your success."

_Stiles closed his eyes as he felt the sincerity in Derek's words. "What if I fail?" he asked._

"Impossible. You already won. You were chosen out of how many entries?"

_"I dunno. A lot."_

_Derek hummed briefly._ "Exactly. You're already a top pick," _he said._ "Anything else after that is a bonus. I'm already proud of you. Nick is already proud of you. Cora and the pack, too. You have nothing to prove to the audience---just yourself. You're gonna do great."

_"Are you an inspirational speaker now?" Stiles asked. He smiled. "That was pretty good."_

_After a little laugh, Derek said,_ "Thanks. What are you going to do tonight?"

_"Picking shoes and wigs," Stiles replied. "Might try packing my makeup kit."_

"Call or text if you have another crisis of confidence, okay?" _Derek asked._ "I'll do what I can from here."

_"Call me when you finish patrol?" Stiles asked in reply._

"Might be late…"

_"Have you seen my collection of shoes? I'll be up for a while, trust me," Stiles insisted._

_Derek chuckled._ "Yeah, okay. If I can, I will. Even just to say goodnight." 

_"Be safe," Stiles murmured._

_Derek ended the call after murmured words of his own, and then Stiles was left staring at his phone and the mess of stuff beyond the device. Sponges, tape, brushes, cleaner, adhesives, pantyhose, padding, and more as far as the eye could see. It wasn't going to sort and pack itself; he knew he had to get started, because he was running out of time._

#####

People milled around them, but no one was paying any attention to their little group. Stiles felt as if he couldn't breathe, as if he were waiting at the top of a cliff and preparing (reluctantly) to jump. They were outside the long corral to security, Nick and Cora standing beside Stiles and Derek, and it was time to say goodbye---but no one seemed willing or ready to say it.

"Okay, this is pathetic," Cora muttered. She stepped forward and hugged Stiles. "Kick ass, don't screw up, and take care of yourself." 

Stiles chuckled into her shoulder. "It's me. There might be some screwing up," he said quietly. 

"Nope. Because Stiles is Stellah and Stellah is a star," Cora insisted. As she pulled back, she nuzzled against his jaw. "No matter what. Just be you, okay? That's what makes you so good." 

Stiles nodded. "Thanks, Cora," he whispered, smiling at her. 

"You punk out because you get scared and I'll kick your skinny ass when you come home," she added before she smiled sweetly and stepped back from him. 

He was still reeling from Cora's threat when Nick took her place and swept him up in his arms. He laughed a little into Nick's chest and closed his eyes; as if he understood how Stiles was feeling in the wake of Hurricane Cora, Nick chuckled and rubbed Stiles' back. 

"I'm already so proud of you," Nick whispered. "Nothing you do in L.A. is going to bring shame on me as your momma or as your alpha." 

Stiles nodded. 

"Suck up every moment of experience and enjoy it," Nick added. "It's gonna be crazy---but it'll be fun." 

"Yeah," Stiles agreed. "Thank you for making this happen." 

"You made it happen," Nick insisted as he pulled back to look into Stiles face with a grin stretching his. "I may have helped, but this is all to you." 

He knew Nick meant that to be comforting, and it was---but it also felt like a bit of isolating pressure. He forced a smile and nodded again, before he let his eyes move to meet Derek's steady, calm gaze. 

"We're cheering you on," Derek said. "You're not alone---you're never alone. Not really. We're with you every step of the way." 

Stiles' smile felt a bit more real on his face as he listened to Derek. He reached out and slipped his hand into Derek's hand, letting their fingers intertwine. Derek replied with a squeeze. 

"You're gonna be safe, right?" Stiles asked. 

Derek nodded. "As safe as I can be," he replied. "You, too… yeah?" 

"Yep," Stiles said. "I have some wolfsbane and mountain ash in one of my suitcases, just in case." 

"Good. Maybe---"

"Already ahead of you, big guy," he interrupted. "I have a sort of pendant that's hollow and can hold things. Gonna put a little of both in it and wear it if I can---if no one in the cast is a wolfie. Just in case anyone with a problem shows up." 

Derek seemed pleased with that. After another nod, he moved into Stiles' personal space; he settled his free hand on Stiles' hip and squeezed. Stiles smiled and wrapped his arm around Derek's waist. 

"Don't miss me too much, okay?" Stiles asked. 

"Impossible," Derek murmured. 

"It's just six weeks." 

Derek shrugged. "You're very missable."

Cora groaned behind them. 

Rolling his eyes, Derek released his hold on Stiles' hip so he could dig into his jeans' pocket for something. He pulled out a long chain; at the end of the chain, there was a ring made of a solid, light metal. 

"This isn't… I mean, we'll get there," Derek mumbled. His cheeks flushed pink. "But, this is… mine? My family's? And, I'd like it if, if you want to wear it…"

Stiles looked from Derek to the ring, dangling on its chain, and he felt his heart give two solid _thumps_. He grinned as he touched the ring. 

"Staking your claim?" 

Derek nodded. "Just a little," he admitted. "If it's too soon---" 

"Put it on me?" Stiles asked. 

"Yeah?"

Cora interrupted their moment. "Duh. Told you," she muttered. 

Derek ignored her and focused on putting the chain on Stiles' neck, so Stiles ignored her, too. When the ring settled against Stiles' chest, Derek flashed his eyes; then, he smiled and squeezed Stiles' shoulders before pulling him into a hug. 

"I love you, and I can't wait for you to come home and tell me all about this adventure," Derek whispered. 

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's middle and allowed himself to sink and relax into their embrace. He inhaled deeply, trying to capture a little bit of Derek's scent in his memory; he hummed happily as he exhaled. He wanted hugs like that one every day for the rest of his life. 

"I love you and I can't wait for San Francisco to be your home," Stiles murmured. 

"You're my home," Derek breathes near Stiles' ear. 

In all the time Stiles spent observing (and secretly crushing on) Derek from a reasonable distance, he never suspected there was such a sweet and romantic soul under all that scowling and frowning. Getting closer to him since Stiles distanced himself from Beacon Hills was a treat and a treasure. He didn't have any words that could match Derek's admission in intensity---"me, too" was woefully inadequate---so he hummed and squeezed Derek a bit more tightly in response. 

"It's gonna fly by," Stiles said. "For both of us. We just gotta… play it smart, keep our noses clean, and do our jobs." 

"And then we get that week," Derek said. "Followed by the future." 

"God, yeah," he agreed. 

As they separated, Stiles leaned up and kissed him. Derek hummed against his lips. He pulled back, smiling at Stiles. Stiles grinned in response. 

He broke away from Derek's gaze---with considerable effort---and looked at Nick and Cora. 

"You guys are all gonna take care of each other?" 

Nick nodded. "We're pack. Of course we will," he replied. "Keep the emergency phone off unless you're using it---but I'll make sure we update you as the plan progresses." 

"Thanks," Stiles said. He turned his head as a large group of people breezed past them and into the security line. He sighed. "I better get going."

"Don't wanna miss your flight," Derek agreed. 

"I'll text you when I can," Stiles said, looking from Derek to Nick and then to Cora. "I might wait a few days, just to make sure there aren't cameras absolutely everywhere. Calls probably can't happen… they might hear me talking and wonder. But---"

"We'll figure it out," Derek said to assure him. 

"Yeah." 

Stiles wanted to go, and he didn't want to go---all at the same time. 

"Stellah…" Nick said as he pointed to security. 

He sighed. "I know, I know, I gotta go," he agreed. 

A sudden increase in emotion welled up inside of him. He was leaving his family---his mate, his alpha, and his alpha's mate (who was really the sister he never knew he wanted or needed)---and going on an adventure that many others would give anything to take in his place. He wanted to cry; he wanted to laugh. Instead of doing either of those things, he kissed Derek again and waved to the three of them. Then, he backed up and adjusted his backpack as he moved towards the security line. 

Stiles kept looking at them until the line took him beyond a set of opaque barriers. 

Security was a breeze---or as much of a breeze as taking off one's coat, shoes, belt, and jewelry while unpacking their carry-on bag so technology and liquids were separate from everything else could be---and then he made it to the gate in time to grab a coffee from a nearby kiosk. 

It didn't take long for him to be able to board. Nick insisted on upgrading his plane ticket so he would fly in business class---and so he would be one of the first invited to get on the plane. Stiles had tried to dissuade him but Nick refused to budge on the issue. He wanted Stiles to have room and the illusion of privacy; he booked the tickets before Stiles could, and Stiles accepted that he'd been beaten. 

Being beaten came with an empty row, surprisingly. 

Stiles sighed as he settled in his seat. For a few minutes, he watched the other passengers make their way onto the plane, but then he found himself distracted by Derek's ring on the chain. 

It was beautiful. Made of what looked like white gold, it seemed like it had been worn for decades---or longer. The sides were engraved with scrolling sort of design, but it was hard to see them as they were almost worn away from the surfaces. The middle was flattened, as if it were for a crest or symbol; Stiles thought he could see the triskelion when he turned it into the light.

On a whim, he put it on his finger. It fit. Stiles thought that was odd, because Derek's fingers were larger than his. 

He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the ring on his finger. Then, he sent it to Derek with a text: _Do you wear this on your pinky toe?_

Derek's reply--- _It's my dad's. Family heirloom. I kept it in the vault when I came back. Hoped it would fit you_ \---made Stiles' cheeks flush as he realised how important that small piece of jewelry was to both of them, for a variety of reasons. They'd talked about how they were going all in, fully committing to each other before they could even live in the same city. Stiles knew how his brain was wired; he knew, in his soul, that he wouldn't feel how he felt about anyone else. It was a relief and a treasure to realise Derek seemed to really be on a similar wavelength. 

He wanted to make _them_ work. He couldn't wait until they were both in San Francisco and both in Nick's pack officially, so he could focus on learning how to be with Derek---or, so they could learn how to be together, without either of them looking over their shoulders. 

_Thank you <3_ he wrote back. 

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

Stiles looked up at the flight attendant. She was staring at him, her raspberry-coloured lips curved in a small smile and her blue eyes were bright, looking as if she were actually interested in his response. 

He shook his head. "No, thanks," he replied. 

She nodded, smiled again, and walked past him to check on the rest of the passengers at the front of the plane. It was almost time for take-off; he was one step closer to his future. Soon, he'd be hidden away with a group of drag queens. Soon, he'd be stressed and sleepless and scrambling to keep from embarrassing himself. 

He turned off his phone, stuck it in his jacket pocket, and looked out the window in time to see the plane start to ease away from the terminal. 

There was no backing out of the competition. He _wanted_ to try to win. He'd dreamed of being a part of the show since he first watched it, back before he'd purchased his first wig. Back then, he'd known it was a fantasy; back then, he'd never imagined he'd actually get to be a contestant, just like he'd never imagined he could ever have a shot with someone on Derek's level. 

Since those dreamer days, his life had taken a few strange turns---and he wasn't including the werewolf drama and adventure. He figured he'd be in for a few more strange turns when he landed in Los Angeles. 

It would be worth the stress. He (and Stellah) could handle anything the producers threw at him… 

...right?


End file.
